


Newfound

by hnnng



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Childhood Friends, Found Family, Found Family? In my Dream Team fic? It's more likely than you think, Gen, No Beta we die like Dream to a splash potion of instant damage, Other tags to be added, They're platonic soulmates :], Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28439850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hnnng/pseuds/hnnng
Summary: It takes one day for Dream's whole world to come crashing down around him.But what he finds in the rubble? Well, that's a whole other story.---[Aka Dream Team but found family]
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	Newfound

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Hello! Welcome to Newfound, a found family Dream Team fic. I started this back in November but put it aside for other projects. However, I finally decided to complete it, so here we are! I hope you enjoy :]
> 
> Chapter title is from Always Gold by Radical Face
> 
> Warning for violence

The dead leaves strewn upon the forest floor crunch underneath Dream’s boots as he treads through the thin foliage. Despite the lingering winter chill in the air, the day is relatively nice, hence why he decided to head away from the village to do some sword practice.

Living in a small town that thrives off fishing, farming, and hunting, normally their days are spent doing chores and tasks to help their families. Dream knows that if this was any normal day, he himself would be acting as an extra pair of hands at his father’s side, or watching after his baby sister while his mother washes the harvested crops and preserves what meat he and his father have caught. 

However, today wasn’t any other normal day. It was the first day of the new year. At the start of each year, one person from each household—in Dream’s case, his father—would travel to the capital to partake in an annual tradition where the best crops, finest meat, rarest ores, and the fattest fish would fill the marketplace. Nobles would appraise the various goods, and sometimes they would add the seller to a personal list of trusted suppliers.

Dream had waved off the wagons and carts the previous day, having helped with packing his father’s wagon and making sure to pat their family’s horse on its head. After they left, his already small village became even smaller. It was quiet, at least until tomorrow or the day after when everyone would return.

And thus, he had no work to do.

Dream shakes himself out of his thoughts as he stumbles upon the area of the forest he was looking for. His destination is far enough into the woods where he could no longer hear the roosters, but close enough to where he wouldn’t get lost.

This particular area is rather clear of trees, however there are a handful of strong spruce trees that tower above him, drowning out the beams of sunlight and creating dancing patterns on the forest floor below. Their bark has been marked with slashes and scrapes, exposing the bright reddish-brown underneath.

Dream whistles, pulling a stone sword from where it has been sheathed on his belt. Normally, children are given wooden training swords at a young age, but don’t get the more lethal and heavy stone sword until they turn thirteen. At age eleven, Dream is an exception. 

Dream spent all his free time practicing, whether it be with his friends or alone. Whenever he showed his skills to his family, he managed to impress them enough to convince them to give him a stone sword for his eleventh birthday, two years early.

Today is one of the days where he would spend hours honing his sword-fighting in this particular clearing. He had already knocked on his friends’ doors to see if any of them would be free, but as it turns out, today is a day he’ll be spending alone.

He stretches his arms upwards, letting out a huff of air before darting into a fighting stance, ready to burn countless hours away.

* * *

Around this time of year, the sun starts setting earlier and earlier, and the sky starts to tint orange as the afternoon fades away.

Dream huffs, pushing back his dirty blond locks from his face. An hour of practice is a lot, so he decides to take a quick break and drink some water he had brought with him. As he makes his way over to a fallen tree to sit on, he takes a deep breath through his nose. 

_ That’s odd _ , he thinks.  _ Why do I smell smoke? _

His eyes widen in worry, and he quickly makes his way over to one of the taller trees, scrambling up its sturdy limbs until he can see above the treeline. The orange glow from the town is obvious, and if he didn’t know better he might have just thought it was the torches lighting the village.

But it’s the sight of smoke that causes adrenaline to rush through his body. The billowing puffs of gray consume the nearby area, drowning out the lights from homes.

Before he knows it, Dream is jumping down from branch to branch, ignoring the twigs that scrap against his face and get stuck in his hair. The second he hears the crunch of his boots hitting the forest floor, he’s off running faster than he ever has in his life.

As he approaches the town, he can hear faint shrieks and screams. That wouldn’t trouble him nearly as much if he hadn’t heard the sound of a crossbow firing soon after.

_ Pillagers _ .

Their raids had been getting increasingly violent, but his village hadn’t worried themselves too much. No raids had occurred nearby, and thus it wasn’t their problem. 

_ Until now. _

Dream darts through the burning rubble of buildings he grew up around, hiding behind burnt foundations when he sees groups of pillagers walk past. He keeps an eye out for his mother and siblings, but he hasn’t seen them at all.

Eventually, he reaches his destination. The only home he has known, the place where he took his first steps, the place where he  _ grew up _ . What’s left of it is a charred shell of memories, still lit with small flames that are running out of fuel. 

Dream turns his head, looking for any nearby pillagers. When he doesn’t see any, he calls out in a small voice, “Mom?”

Silence.

“Anyone?”

His fists clench together tightly as a mix of rage, remorse, grief, despair, and more emotions he can’t even begin to name run through him. He can feel his nails digging into his skin, leaving red crescent-shaped marks in his palms.

Dream wants to cry. He wants to scream, he wants to stab something, everything is  _ too much _ right now. His family can’t be gone. All he’s known can’t be nothing but ashes. But here he is, facing the cold hard truth. 

He isn’t sure what to do, where to go,  _ what to think. _ That is until here hears a familiar voice yelling, tone full of a recognizable stubbornness. Dream is turning away from his scorched house and running in the direction of the voice before he even has time to register what he’s doing.

As he gets closer, he can make out a few words. “Get off of me!” the familiar voice huffs, stubborn to the core. He doesn’t even have to think before he’s rushing forwards, sword drawn.

Dream’s sword connects with the arm of a pillager holding his best friend by the collar of his shirt. The pillager grunts, dropping the dark-haired boy roughly, who lets out an “ _ oomph!”  _ as he hits the ground. Dream doesn’t even have to think before he sends the blade down towards the pillager's chest.

_ I just killed someone _ , Dream realizes in shock.  _ I just did that. _

“Dream!” Sapnap cries out, pulling him out of his own head as he crashes into him with a hug. Dream holds the younger boy close to his chest, like he’s the only thing he has left, trying to ignore the fact that Sapnap might  _ be _ the only thing he has left. 

“Sapnap, you—” Dream gasps out, trying to find the right words. He pulls the younger from his arms to make eye contact with him. “You’re—What happened? Where is everyone?”

The noiret opens his mouth, ready to respond, but before he can, Dream catches the distant (but far too close) sound of a crossbow being fired, followed by a heart-wrenching scream. He slaps his hand over the younger’s mouth, gulping.

“Nevermind,” Dream whispers. “You can tell me in a sec, let’s get to somewhere less… open.” 

Dream darts over to the body of the pillager that he just killed, grabbing their crossbow.  _ They won’t be needing it, not anymore. _

He secures Sapnap’s hand in his own as they creep along the burning ruins of their village, towards the cobblestone foundation which is the only thing remaining from the town bakery. Dream pulls them behind it, kneeling down onto the rough gravel beneath them.

They take a few moments to gather their breath, looking around carefully to see if they’re in the clear.

“Tell me what happened,” Dream prompts. 

The younger boy explains how sudden the pillager raid had happened. There were so many pillagers—hundreds, even—and with half of the village’s inhabitants at the capital, it’d taken no time at all for the remaining few to be overpowered and slaughtered. 

“Mom told me to run,” Sapnap whispers, gaze fixed downward. “She said I should go get help from the town thirty minutes down the road. I didn’t get far.”

“It’s not your fault. Do you know where she is?” the taller boy asks. A question about his own family goes unsaid, but Sapnap seems to hear it anyway.

Sapnap looks down, biting his lip. That’s all Dream really needs to know.

_ We’re alone, _ Dream realizes. 

The only noises remaining in their once-lively village are the roaring of flames and the murmuring of pillagers. There’s nothing left for them. Dream knows deep down that his friends, his family, his teachers, and  _ everyone _ have probably been killed. Visions and scenarios fly through his mind, each one more horrific than the last.

“Sapnap,” Dream mutters, shaking the visions away.

“Hmm?”

“We have to leave.”

His own acknowledgment causes a mix of adrenaline and panic to course through Dream’s veins. They can’t stay here, not unless they want to die. The blond shifts onto his knees, readying himself to stand as he grabs Sapnap’s upper arm, only for the younger to elicit a pained noise.

The blond narrows his eyes at Sapnap, staring at the area where he’s holding the younger boy’s arm.

“It’s nothing,” the noiret defends. “Just a scrape.”

Skeptical, the taller boy rolls up the shorter’s baggy sleeve, only to be met with a large and deep cut, running down the length of his arm.

“That’s not  _ nothing _ , Sapnap!” the older boy chastises. “That’s bad. Like, really bad.”

“It doesn’t matter, Dream!” Sapnap retorts. “It’s not like we can treat it right now.”

Dream bites his lip. Sapnap is right. The reality of the situation is starting to crash into him at full force. All they have is two weapons to protect themselves with. They have no food, no clothing besides what they’re wearing, and nothing to treat a wound with. They have absolutely  _ nothing _ .

With a sigh, Dream concedes to the younger’s point. Standing up, he gestures for Sapnap to take his sword. The same sword that had never been used against anything more than tree trunks and hay bales, now covered with drying blood.

Sapnap stands beside him, standing on his tippy toes to peer above the cobblestone foundation they’ve been hiding behind. The bright flames reflect in the pools of his dark eyes, casting an orange glow onto his face.

Dream holds the crossbow up. He’s never even held one before. It’s big for him and it weighs a lot more than a sword. It’s crafted rather shoddily, consisting of rough edges and scraped wood.

“So, where are we going?” Sapnap questions, turning towards Dream.

The older boy pauses to gather his thoughts. They can’t go back into the town. They’d be caught quickly, and with hundreds of pillagers running amuck it wouldn’t take long for them to be killed. Unfortunately for them, all the pathways out of town are on the side opposite of them, where the pillagers in question are.

Dream turns around to face the thick foliage behind the remains of the bakery. 

_ Dream, _ the memory of his mother’s voice rings in his head.  _ Never go play in that part of the woods, do you hear me?  _

_ Well _ , he responds in his head, as if to justify what he’s about to do.  _ The circumstances have changed. _

“We’re going through the forest to the west,” Dream answers, pointing the crossbow towards the dense area in question. 

The forest is made up of towering trees. Beneath those are smaller and younger trees, desperate to peek above the taller ones in order to drink in some sun. Thick bushes—taller than the both of them—line each part of the area. There’s no clear path through.

“But—”

“It’s the only option,” Dream asserts, cutting Sapnap off. The younger boy shifts, looking down as if to contemplate his words.

After a few moments, the dark-haired boy looks up, dark eyes swirling with a mix of determination and fear. The blond nods back. They have to be brave, but it’s a lot easier said than done.

Dream turns back to their village, taking a few moments to drink in the sights. Even though all that remains are its ruins, he never wants to forget it. This was his world for eleven years and this might be the last time he ever sees it.

“Dream!” 

He’s drawn out of his thoughts by Sapnap tugging on his shirt, pointing frantically. A lone pillager is standing a few paces away, staring right at them. The world stands still for just a minute, before the pillager cries out, most likely alerting their comrades about the two kids that still remain alive.

Dream aims the crossbow without even thinking, watching as the arrow shoots through the air, connecting with the pillager’s stomach. The recoil sends him stumbling, but Sapnap is quick to grab his arm and keep him from falling backward.

“We need to go,  _ now _ ,” Sapnap hisses.

He grabs the younger’s uninjured hand in his once more.

They run, past the smoldering ruins, past the trampled hay bales, and straight into the unknown. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! I hope you enjoyed :]
> 
> As always my twitter is @bapnaps, feel free to come and chat!


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